Dorothy Clark (10 page)

“Is that what this is about, Sadie? Your fear of men? Of Cole in particular? He’s very like P—his brother in appearance.” Willa’s voice was cautious, caring.

She stiffened, jerked her gaze from Willa to her home as they turned into the carriageway. “This is about saving Poppa’s businesses, Willa. He is helpless. And you heard Cole—he is filling all the shingle orders at
his
mill. Who knows what else he is doing? I have to be Poppa’s eyes and ears.”
Cole is his legs.
She shoved the thought away and gripped the edge of the seat.

“Perhaps Cole has a good reason for filling those orders at his mill, Sadie.” Willa reined in and turned to face her. “If you don’t know what
scheme
Cole is working against your grandfather, how can you be certain there is one?”

She wiped moisture from her cheeks and thought about her reasons. “Why else would he be so thoughtful and helpful to Nanna and Poppa after what happened? I should think our home is the
last
place he would want to be. That my grandparents are the
last
people he would want to be around.”

“I don’t know Cole well, Sadie. But Matthew does. And he likes him very much. I do know Cole is thoughtful and helpful to everyone. He has been ever since he came to town. He felt terrible about what happened. He even joined the search for Payne.”

“He probably wanted to help him get away.” Memories swarmed and brought the acrid taste back to her mouth. “Not that Payne needed help. He managed to escape while Poppa was carrying me to the house and the logger was running to fetch Dr. Palmer.” She climbed from the phaeton, turning her back toward the path leading through the woods. The memories were too strong, her emotions too raw to look at it. “Payne—I mean,
Cole—
is trying to get Poppa to sign a note at the bank.”

“For what reason?”

“To buy him a clapboard machine. And he keeps insisting, even though Poppa has said no.” She placed her hand on the hitching post, the warmth of the wood so different from the cold inside her. “And he lied to Poppa about delivering a large order of clapboards to someone in Pinewood the other day.”

Willa shook her head. “That wasn’t a lie, Sadie. Cole delivered a load of clapboard to the livery the other day. The day you came to visit me. I know because Joshua and Sally were visiting Mama at the time and they went out on Mama’s porch to watch the wagon being unloaded. It was the second load of clapboard he’d delivered. The first was delivered the day before.”

She stared up at Willa, her certainty about Cole’s lying shaken.
Had
he come back to rescue her? The image of him standing in the stable holding Sweetpea’s reins and looking at her flashed into her head. She tightened her grip on the hitching post and ignored the sudden traitorous hope that made her stomach tremble. “Did you see Cole deliver the load on the first day?”

“No.”

“Did the children?”

“No. But we all saw the pile of clapboard.”

She nodded, smoothed the front of her skirt, then pressed her hand against her stomach to ease its painful spasm. It served her right for allowing her wish for someone to protect and care for her to sway her common sense. “It had to be someone else, then. Cole came to the house shortly after he said he was leaving to make the delivery and he was riding. You can’t deliver a load of lumber on horseback.” She swallowed the disappointment and glanced toward the house. “Will you come in for some lemonade, Willa?”

“Another time, Sadie—if you’re all right? I should get back and rescue Mama. Joshua and Sally are visiting her again, and as much she loves them, they
are
energetic.”

“I’m fine, Willa.” She stepped back, thankful to have left the subject of the Aylward brothers behind. “Remember me to your mother. And tell Joshua and Sally I am eager to meet them.” She frowned and stole another glance at the house. “I don’t like to leave Nanna and Poppa for long. Perhaps you could bring them with you when your husband comes to call on Sunday? I’ll make white cookies.”

“In that case, it will be our pleasure.” Willa laughed and urged the horse into a turn, waved as the buggy headed back toward the road.

Sadie returned Willa’s wave, then stood staring after the buggy and thinking of the long, empty years ahead. They would be penurious years for her and her grandparents unless she could think of another idea to get those ledgers and thwart Cole.

At the moment, that idea escaped her. But there was one from whom nothing was hidden—including Cole’s scheme. She climbed the porch steps, rested her hand on the post at the top and looked toward the cloudless, blue sky. “Almighty God, please help me find the truth.”

Chapter Thirteen

S
upper seemed as tasteless as the sawdust floating on the air at the sawmill earlier. Sadie put down her fork and glanced across the dining room table at Cole, watched him butter another biscuit. Their confrontation at the mill that afternoon hadn’t affected
his
appetite. Of course, he still had the ledgers. And now that he knew she was after them, he could do what he would with them. She had failed.

Her mouth went as dry as it had that afternoon when Cole had walked into the office and found her going through the desk. She lifted her glass and took a swallow of lemonade. Perhaps she should ask him for the ledgers right now, in front of Poppa. He couldn’t deny having them. He’d admitted he had them in front of Willa. And she could prove he was lying about delivering the clapboard.

She put down her glass and took a breath, then swallowed back the words forming on her tongue as Gertrude stepped into the dining-room doorway.

“Begging your pardon for interrupting your meal, but there’s a logger says he has to see Mr. Aylward right away.”

She glanced back at Cole, saw the look that passed between him and her grandfather. A problem at the sawmill?

Cole tossed his napkin on the table and rose. “If you’ll excuse me...”

She stared after him as he followed Gertrude from the room. What would she say when he returned? She had to frame her request carefully or Poppa—

“Sa...die...”

“Yes, Poppa?” She looked his way and saw the concern in his eyes.

“Go...see.” He dipped his head toward the hallway.

She nodded and laid her napkin beside her plate then headed for the door.

“Rachel...you...pray?”

Pray? Her stomach flopped.

“Lord God Almighty, we come before You to ask that if any of our loggers or sawyers are injured, You will heal them in Your mercy. And, that if they are...beyond healing, You will receive them into Your loving arms. We ask for peace for...”

Loggers.
She hadn’t thought of the loggers, only the mill. Fear burst upon her, settled in her heart. Daniel worked at one of her grandfather’s logging camps. She took a deep breath and rushed across the hall into the kitchen. Gertrude was alone at the work table slicing cake for their dessert. “Cole has gone?”

“He’s on the porch.”

She nodded and hurried to the door, pausing as running footsteps pounded away down the porch. “The logger must be leaving.” The door latch clicked and she stepped back. “Cole, Poppa wants—” She stopped, looked at the dirt-spattered man who entered and took another step back.

“Cole left. He told me to—” The logger blinked. A grin slanted his lips. “Hey, Quick Stuff. I heard you were home.”

“Daniel?”
Disbelief, hope, doubt and joy quivered in her whisper.

“For sure!”

Two long strides closed the space between them. Her hands were swallowed by his big, strong ones.
Daniel.
She searched his mud-streaked, bearded face for the boy she remembered. She found him in the green eyes smiling down at her. “Daniel...” Her voice wobbled. She gave him a shaky smile. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“And you, Quick Stuff.” His hands squeezed hers. He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “You’ve grown up as pretty and delicate as an arbutus vine trailing across the forest floor.” He looked down at their joined hands, scowled and looked back up. “You’re shaking.”

“I know.” She gave a little laugh. “I do that sometimes.”

His eyes darkened. He glanced toward the porch, then looked back at her, his gaze piercing, intent. “Are you all right, Sadie? Cole being around isn’t bothering you or...anything?”

The memory of what had happened four years ago hung between them, manifested itself in the compressed line of Daniel’s lips, the rigid posture of his wide shoulders. Tears clogged her throat. Daniel had always been fiercely protective toward her and the other girls, in spite of their pestering him mercilessly. She hadn’t even had a chance to tell him farewell when she left town because he’d been out combing the woods, intent on finding Payne Aylward and making him pay for what he had done to her.

She shook her head and smiled. “I’ve become accustomed to Cole’s presence. He comes often to help Poppa. He’s very kind to my grandparents.”

“I’ve heard. Still...” His gaze drifted toward the porch again and his chest swelled with a deep, audible breath. “You send word if you need me, Sadie.” He released her hands. “Cole told me to stay and carry your grandfather into the sitting room when he’s finished his supper. Will that be long?”

“Supper!” She caught her breath. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I’ve forgotten my manners in the excitement of seeing you again. We’re still at the table. Will you join us?”

“With all this mud on me?” He grinned, and his eyes flashed with a mischievous look that took her straight back to their childhood. “Do you think your grandmother would allow me to share her dining table?”

She returned his grin. “You could wash up. There must be a clean face somewhere under those muddy streaks.”

He lifted a hand, rubbed it over his face and grimaced. “I must look a sight. I had to ride for Doc Palmer as soon as we got the men free. There wasn’t time for niceties.”

“Of course not. Are the men...all right?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug that said more than words. “Can’t say until they wake up or Doc has a look at them.”

She nodded, saddened for the injured loggers, but thankful Daniel was unhurt. “Poppa is waiting to hear what happened.” She turned toward the door to the hallway, then paused. “I must warn you, Daniel, Nanna might not understand. She is...unwell in her mind. She slips in and out of the past, and even forgets who I am—though she seems to remember you.” She tried for a cheeky smile, but her lips trembled and she wrinkled her nose at him instead.

“I’m sorry, Quick Stuff.” He reached for her hands again and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Ma told me your grandmother was forgetful, but I didn’t know how bad it was.”

She nodded and stepped toward the pantry. “I’ll get a plate for you. Nanna will do what Poppa wants, and Poppa wants to hear what calamity brought you seeking Cole. And after that we can visit.”

“Don’t bother with the plate, Sadie.” He touched her shoulder and turned her back to face him. “I can’t stay, much as I want to. I’m only here because of the accident. I had to let Cole know what had happened. As soon as I get your grandfather settled, I have to get back to camp and help clear up the tangle of trees. We’re shorthanded now.”

She swallowed her disappointment and nodded. “I understand.”

“But...the next Sunday I have off, I’ll ride into town to see Ma, and then I’ll come get you and we’ll go up to the big rocks and watch for deer like we used to do.”

She couldn’t quite match his smile. And she couldn’t tell him she wouldn’t go into the woods. She groped for an evasive answer. “I’d forgotten about the big rocks. Now, we’d better go in to Poppa. He’ll be getting anxious.”

* * *

Cole slid from the saddle, looked at the star-strewn sky overhead and frowned. He’d spent more time at the lumber camp than he had anticipated, and Manning was still sitting in his chair waiting to be carried to his bed. The man must be in misery by now. He
had
to get that chair finished. His frown deepened to a scowl. He’d have time to work on it tomorrow evening now that the accounts were current.

He wrapped Cloud’s reins over the hitching rail, unfastened the bag lashed to the pommel and strode toward the house and up the steps. His footsteps echoed across the porch, loud in the quiet of the night.

The light from the oil lamp in the window lit his way through the dining room and out into the hall. He placed the bag out of sight at the base of the center table in the entrance and stepped into the sitting room.

Manning glanced up from the book he was reading. “How are...the men?”

“Doc Palmer says Morse will make it. He’s not as certain about Simmons. He says if he makes it through the next two days, he should be all right.” He scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck, willed himself not to look at Sadie and lost the battle. She looked tired, sad and beautiful.

“Need someone...take care of...them.”

“Morse’s mother is going to stay at the camp and nurse them both.” He walked to Manning’s chair, watched Sadie rise and go to the settee and urge her grandmother to put away her needlepoint.

“Paula Morse is...good woman.”

“Yes.” He dragged his gaze away from Sadie and leaned down. “I’m sorry I’m so late, Manning. I’ll get you to your room.” He lifted the elderly man into his arms and headed for the entrance hall, Rachel scurrying out the door ahead of them to turn down her husband’s bed. He glanced back at Sadie, now sitting on the settee and removing her grandmother’s careless stitches. Good. She’d be there when he returned. He took a firmer grip on Manning and quickened his steps.

* * *

“Sadie.” Cole spoke softly so he wouldn’t startle her, but he might as well have shouted. She jerked her head up, looked his way and rose to her feet. Ready to run from him? The thought tightened his chest.

“Yes?”

The tremble in her voice caught at his heart. He’d give anything to stop the fear she felt for him, but how did you fight a memory? “I’d like a word with you. About this afternoon.” He stepped into the room.

She placed the needlepoint she was holding on the settee and backed toward the fireplace, stopped and stared at the bulging bag he held. “Is that...”

“Your grandfather’s ledgers, yes.” He pulled the two green leather-bound books from the bag, stepped forward and laid them on the game table. “I had intended to give them to you after supper, but, as you know, I was called away.”

He glanced over at her, caught a breath at the tightening in his gut. She looked so fragile, so vulnerable. He ached to hold her, to comfort her. He took a firm grip on his emotions and rolled the empty bag into a tight cylinder. “You’ll find the accounts are current. All transactions are entered up to yesterday’s date.”

He tried again to catch her gaze, but she was looking at the books with a bewildered expression on her face. “I will be happy to stay and explain them to you if that will help.”

The puzzled expression disappeared, and her face went taut. “That is...generous of you, but it is not necessary. I helped with the accounts at the seminary and am familiar with how income and expenditures are recorded.”

“I see. Well, that is fortunate.” He dropped his gaze to her fingers, nervously toying with the button closing the lace collar on her purple gown. Was her fear of him making it hard for her to breathe? Would she never trust him? Irritation pierced holes in his compassion. “Your experience with the seminary’s accounting should help you find whatever you are looking for.” The vexation roughened his voice.

She lifted her chin and rested her gaze in the vicinity of his chin. “I’m certain it shall. And if I
do
find I have a question, I can ask Poppa. He will understand everything.”

There was a threat implied in her words, but he couldn’t begin to imagine what she was accusing him of. He’d done nothing but help Manning Townsend. His ire rose, overcoming his good sense. “I’m sure he will. Perhaps then he will be able to satisfy your suspicions, whatever they are.” He lifted his lips in a tight little smile and dipped his head. “Good evening, Miss Spencer. And good hunting!”

He slapped the rolled bag against his thigh, pivoted on his heel and strode from the room.